


Your Voice is the Splinter Inside Me

by motherofangst



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, Rebelcaptainsecretsanta, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, i suck at tagging things, kinda ?, ladytharen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofangst/pseuds/motherofangst
Summary: “I examined my own heart, and there you were, never, I fear, to be removed."Hands come to his jawline in the swimming focus of his mind – and the touch, despite his cold and moist skin, was warm and almost anchoring in a way. He felt the temporary duty of mission melt from tense bones – something in the back of his mind telling him that his mission stood just before him, and there was no failure.





	Your Voice is the Splinter Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mollivanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/gifts).



> My Secret Santa gift for ladytharen for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa exchange !! I got really stoked to get someone I follow and admire, and I was really anxious to write out something that I hoped you would like. There was admittedly more I wanted to do with it, but the holidays got a lot more hectic with family than I expected it to. But, I’m still satisfied with the finished product, and I hope you are, too. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for any errors -- if you notice any, I will gladly and quickly fix them. Unbeta'd.
> 
> The prompt I was given was _“I examined my own heart, and there you were, never, I fear, to be removed."_

When he wakes -- he wakes slowly. And that in itself is unusual. The captain had seasoned himself to pull himself to full awareness in the beat of a heart ; anyless could mean the difference between life and death. He wakes, and the air is frigid -- no stench of the humid, heavy musk of sweat and a stink that had to have been nothing less than death. The taste of metal clings to his tongue, but the dark atmosphere given to him from behind his eyelids betrays no inkling of the stark, harsh corners of it wherever he may currently be.  
  
“ _Captain--”_ he hears, with the nonchalance that only a droid could offer. There were hands on him ; on his shoulders and under his arms that felt more like _tethers_ on a puppet rather than actual hands in the detached darkness where he refuses to fully breach reality by opening his eyes. “Captain Andor --” There was moisture on his skin and dripping onto his barefeet and the cold of the whatever floor might harbor him. He was shaking from the dampness of his skin bared to the cold air of Echo Base, but he did not seem to notice.  
  
He was disoriented and confused. The last he remembered was the damp catacombs -- was addressing the bounty hunter for Jyn’s release. And then a harsh shake of the entire structure that took his balance out from under him. His muscles tensed, and the moment after they do his entire body seems to _protest_ beneath them ; that doesn’t stop the hands ( flesh hands, the droid was not the one holding him up ) from tightening their grip in anticipation of the confused spy possibly lashing out. “Captain Andor -- you’re in medical. _Andor,_ please, remain calm. You have just been extracted from a dunk in a bactatank, we’re going to transport you to --”

 _“The credits you are asking for is higher than her bounty is worth,” the collector, dressed in constricting Imperial clothing that still seemed to leave room for confusion of rank. His dark eyes skimmed the data pad which held the woman’s -- Lyra’s -- information on it._  
  
_“She bit the boss on the way in,” the creature slurred, seeming to be clear that it’s anatomy didn’t seem to be built for basic. “Collateral damage.”_

 _The man with the dark eyes huffs -- stoic gaze flickering past the rusted, durasteel bars to the primal woman behind them ; where she sat spitting mute venom at him in the corner of the barely lit catacomb cell. “Pettiness will not get you paid -- if you would like, I can report to my superiors that you are not interested in a_ **_fair bargain_ ** _\--”  ( If only you knew who she_ **_really was --_ ** _if only you knew who I really was, I would not be the one making the arguments. )_ ****  
**_  
_ ** _The creature seemed panicked -- or, so the stranger could assess from the way it’s eyes glassed over fleetingly until they leveled -- “No, sir -- that is not necessary. I just need to inform the boss that she will be loaded out --” it started. The collector seemed to be already readying a reply, to cut the other off, to tell them that he will take her off their hands now -- rather than later -- but a deafening, ear splitting roar seemed to shake the catacomb to its core  ( memories of a Holy City destroyed flashed through his mind without his approval -- his own cries echoing in the back of his head, reminding him that he needed to get to_ **_Jyn_ ** _before disembarking the doomed planet._ ****_It wasn’t the same --_ _he knew this, he knew this wasn’t Jedha; he knew this wasn’t the Death Star. But it resurfaced the memory just as well -- ) stole his balance from under his feet._

“Let me see him!” came a familiar snap of a voice. In his dazed mind, he couldn’t place the fire of the female’s tone for a beat ; but, it did urge his eyes to finally open. To see the saturated blurred corners of the shorter woman shouldering past the droid. “You’re not helping -- he’s still confused.”  
  
Hands come to his jawline in the swimming focus of his mind -- and the touch, despite his cold and moist skin, was warm and almost anchoring in a way. He felt the temporary duty of mission melt from tense bones -- something in the back of his mind telling him that his mission stood just before him, and there was no failure.  

When she spoke again, she somehow lacked the heat that she had been using as a weapon against those holding him prior -- “ _Cassian --”_ the single word, **his name,** spoke volumes upon a mind that wanted nothing more than to slip back into the darkness to make the confusing haze of his own mind make more sense. The captain was not accustomed to an addled brain ; it was beyond frustrating as it prevented him from being able to pull things into small pieces and examine its workings. Like the **thick** and dense fog of the aftermath of a grenade, his mind worked slowly to flicker his gaze across the dulled lines of the one in front of him before _finally_ settling on her eyes. “You’re alright, Cassian. They’re going to fix you up -- there was no lasting damage, you just gave everyone a scare.”

Her hands were moving, from his cheeks to his sides -- pressing small, but strong, digits into the skin there. “Jyn -?” he asks, and his voice sounds muted even to his own ears.  
  
He sees the smear of a blur of her weary smile, and he _thinks_ she nods in the unfocused, tunnel of his vision. “How did -?”

“It’s not important right now,” she insists at his unfinished, rough question ; seeming to wince at the way that his words rattled around what sounded like he had been forced to swallow glass. “You just need to rest.” There’s a beat of silence before, “.. _Cassian?”_  
  
“.. _Jyn?”_ he echoes.  
  
There’s a solid touch on his shoulder, and he doesn’t realize for a moment that his eyes had closed again. That he had lost a small chunk of time, and he was now on the stiff lines of a medical cot ; that the anchoring touch was again the familiar warmth of her fingers against skin as she squeezed gently. “ _Rest_ \-- “ she repeated, and he was unsure if the earlier iteration of it had been minutes prior, or just seconds.  
  
Regardless, he stopped fighting the haze that was licking and tugging at the back of his mind -- a hollow breath rattling somewhere in his chest cavity as he let himself be welcomed back under.

* * *

 

The next time he wakes, it’s almost just as slow. But his mind doesn’t feel quite as detached. It doesn’t feel quite as if circuits were detached and misfiring. He merely feels _drowsy._ Likely, the lull of pain medication was pulsing in his veins, causing a groan to elicit out of him as his lids twitch ; tugging himself to an awareness that lets him know that the room is much _too bright_ for his liking -- artificial brightness leaking in through barely parted lashes; enticing him to keep his eyes shut in retaliation of the temporary blindness that he would have to struggle with if he pried the weight of his eyes open.

Albeit, a moment later, there was a bargaining for his consciousness ; a hand that slipped into his own and gave a gentle squeeze. “Cassian,” the voice spoke into his state of battling consciousness. The voice was gentle, and sent a jolt of comfort he was not yet familiar with into his chest ; wrapping him in a warmth that was unknown and foreign to him -- one he didn’t know quite how to place. It was not expectant, as he was accustomed to hearing in the tone that accompanied his name. As if it was just spoken as a reminder that the owner of the voice was there ; that they were concerned, but they understood he needed his rest. It was a reassurance.  
  
“Jyn?” he finds his tongue speaking, despite the heaviness of it. He cracks his eyes open, squinting into the blinding spectrum of whites against the walls of Echo Base medbay. Instead of trying to focus towards the ceiling, he turns his gaze to the owner of the hand in his. _To Jyn._ The same anchoring touch that he remembered from prior ; the steady, unrelenting warmth that had traveled from his cheeks, to his hip to envelope his core.  
  
She smiles, and it looks less weary than he remembered from before -- but, he couldn’t be sure, as his vision before was merely smudges of pain against the canvas of his eyes. She tips her head, and there is a distant look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. A look that he hasn’t seen on her often ; that he has the longing to take apart and piece back together. _Stop --_ he tells himself. _She is not another job for you to pry together like a circuit board._ Then **what was she,** if not another tool? _What was she?_ “You’re awake,” she says softly, and -- distantly -- he feels her thumb smooth over the outside of his hand. She then adds, “You came for me.”

He had -- it had taken more than a little convincing to have Draven allow Cassian to disembark to extract their wayward rebel. To soothe himself under the cover of an Imperial coming to collect on the bounty of one of Jyn’s many aliases. He had only been lucky it had been an alias, and not **Jyn Erso,** that the bounty hunters had taken. Or else he might not have gotten her back.

The thought alone made him sick. And maybe that was all the answer that he needed to _what was she?_ “I did,” was his simple, lackluster response. Jyn lets out a huff ; one that spoke of impatience. One that spoke that she had expected more of an answer than that -- but, at the same time, with the way the corner of her lips twitched, she knew she _shouldn’t have._

“Must’ve been a hell of a conversation with Draven to allow him to let you do that,” she muses -- _conversation_ was a light term for **argument,** Cassian supposed. “Why? Wouldn’t it have been easier to leave me? To not have to use up so many resources, and your time?” It wasn’t self deprecating in the least ; her tone did not read as so, anyway. It was probing, searching for something other than commentary to boost her confidence.

Cassian allowed himself to humor the thought process. To pick apart the pieces of what had been going through his mind before, during, and after. “When you were gone -- taken -- I … was afraid,” he started, his voice strained from the difficulty of sorting through his thoughts. The difficulty of acknowledging that something had frightened him ; nevertheless, the thought of _losing someone_ had frightened him. He expected something lesser in her eyes at the admission -- pity, maybe. Judgement. He saw none of it in those depths, only warmth. So he continued. “I kept .. running scenarios. In my head -- of the probability of you coming back without help. It seemed … slim. And then I kept imagining all of the terrible things that could be done to you -- that I would never get to see you again, and that you would be suffering. I couldn’t stomach that. I don’t know when it happened -- and I don’t know how -- but, I think you have found a way under my skin, and at this point, I don’t think I want to carve it out. _You’re there,_ and… I want you to be.”

Jyn smiles again -- and this time, it’s bright. Like it could light up all the dark corners of their universe. As she’s hiding that precious smile, one that does strange things to Cassian’s drug addled mind, behind his knuckles as she presses her lips to his there. “I think you’ve grown under my skin, too -- and I think I’m okay with that,” she whispers against his bruised skin. “Get some rest, Cassian, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from _Winter_ by Joshua Radin.


End file.
